


Pit Stop

by Chrononautical



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bilbo is So Done, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grumpy Thorin, Ice Cream, M/M, Prompt Fill, Road Trips, Smooching, Thorin Singing, bagginshield summer adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrononautical/pseuds/Chrononautical
Summary: During a summer road trip, Bilbo and Thorin enjoy an unexpected detour.My submission for the Bagginshield Summer Adventure.





	Pit Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if the driving portions of this story are a little too North American. While I tried to make the location as nondescript as possible, I have no experience with driving in other continents.
> 
> My prompt for the [Bagginshield Summer Adventure](https://bagginshield-summer-adventure.tumblr.com/) was "car + ice cream" which really got me out of my comfort zone. I highly recommend getting a prompt and taking part in this event to anyone looking for a challenging summer adventure. Modern AU: here we go!

Bilbo would have given a great deal to be driving his own car. 

His car had working air conditioning. You didn’t need to put up with hot wind that stank of tar and petrol whipping hair into your eyes when you were trying to drive. His car didn’t have something clunking around in a massive truck bed. You weren’t startled every time you made more than the slightest turn. And speaking of turning, his neat little Prius could spin on a dime. Thorin’s ornery old truck refused to budge in anything other than a straight line unless you really forced the issue. 

_”On and on the road has gone,”_ Thorin sang softly from the passenger seat. _”Thou and I shall meet anon."_

At least the fact that the radio didn’t work any better than the air conditioning wasn’t a hardship. Thorin’s voice was far better than any of the bubble gum pop or public access stations one was likely to get so far from the city. Listening to him was a real pleasure. Spending time together was the whole point of a trip, after all.

Taking his eyes off the road, Bilbo smiled softly at his passenger. As he did so, an entitled kid in an Audi almost rear ended the truck. Barely sixteen years old and he was about to crash a car that cost more than Bilbo’s entire education. Cursing under his breath, Bilbo forced the gas pedal a little more. Just maintaining his speed in the massive pickup required all his concentration. It was nothing like driving his own car.

Bilbo’s Prius was fuel efficient, maneuverable, and had all modern amenities. Not only was there a working air conditioning, it had a nicely reflective slate gray interior. Thorin’s black leather dashboard radiated more heat than the sun. In every possible way, Bilbo’s car was the best choice for a long drive. 

But what could a simple Baggins do? When Thorin rolled up in his truck and suggested a road trip—an adventure—all of Bilbo’s common sense was replaced by a simple, enthusiastic yes. 

Everything was like that with Thorin. 

“Let’s switch,” the passenger said abruptly. “I’ll drive.” 

“No, no, no.” Bilbo squinted against the glaring sun as yet another eighteen wheeler sped past him on the wrong side. “It’s my turn.” 

Distracted by the heat, the road, and his own discomfort, Bilbo didn’t notice Thorin’s silent brooding for several minutes. 

“Things will be different,” Thorin said, “when Erebor is mine once more.” 

Images of luxury SUVs and sports cars raced through Bilbo’s mind then. More vehicles he had no context for driving. Cars like the Audi which could have killed them both. Once, Bilbo knew, Thorin owned such things. Once, Thorin Oakenshield was at the top of _Forbes_ lists and a mountain of money. But Bilbo never would have met that Thorin. Bilbo didn’t love that Thorin. 

Sliding across two lanes of traffic, Bilbo took the very next exit. After pulling into a sun broiled parking lot, he hopped down from the truck, slamming the creaking door shut. The air was so humid he could barely breathe.

“Thank you. I’ll drive now. I know you don’t like the truck.” Thorin opened his own door with considerably more ease. Usually, he was less affected by the heat than Bilbo, but his cheeks were red above his beard. For once, Bilbo did not blame the sun. 

“That is not why I stopped,” he said sternly. “Wait here.” 

Crossing asphalt so hot it almost melted the shoes from his feet, Bilbo entered the storefront. The cool, stale, recycled air crashed over him and he wondered if he should have let Thorin come. Across the parking lot, leaning against his truck, a curtain of hair covered Thorin’s face. He was brooding. Best to leave him alone for a bit. 

Five minutes later, Bilbo returned to the truck holding an ice cream cone in each hand. One was butter pecan. The other was dirt cake. A pure white drop of butter pecan struck his hand, already melting in the overwhelming heat. Licking it away, Bilbo handed Thorin the other treat. 

Thorin watched as the dark, frozen cream began to shimmer and drip. “I prefer plain chocolate.” 

“You’ll like this. Try it.” 

Kicking the rusty hatch of the truck bed expertly, Bilbo pulled it open with one hand. Then he hopped up to sit comfortably. Ignoring Thorin, he lapped happily at his own ice cream cone. It was sweet, cold, and perfect. Just the thing for a hot day. Beneath him the truck bed creaked and lowered. Thorin’s weight beside him would never go unnoticed by the ancient vehicle. 

Focusing on his own ice cream, Bilbo watched Thorin from the corner of his eye. A pink tongue came out to lick the treat tentatively. Shortly thereafter, Thorin made a soft noise that Bilbo knew very well. He took a proper bite. 

“Okay,” Thorin said. “This is the best thing I have ever tasted.” 

Bilbo grinned at him. “Good?” 

“Delicious.” Thorin took another taste. “How do they make it taste like pudding?” 

“One of the great mysteries of the world.” Looking up at the cloudless sky, Bilbo lost himself in the cool flavor of his desert and the endless blue above. 

Eventually, a hot hand clasped Bilbo’s. Thorin’s smile was sweeter than the ice cream, better than fresh air and open spaces. He had a little bit of chocolate in his beard. 

Leaning over, Bilbo kissed the mess away. It was bristly, but sweet. Just like Thorin. 

“Thank you for this,” Thorin murmured, claiming his lips in an engrossing kiss. With the ease of long practice, their mouths opened in tandem. Tongues met in a brief, gentle mingling of two complementary flavors. A hand carded through Bilbo’s sweat damp hair, cooling him. 

“Hm. Thank yourself. For a kiss like that, I’d give you all the ice cream in the world.” 

“Not for the ice cream.”

“I thought you liked the ice cream.” 

Thorin jostled his shoulder against Bilbo’s, so Bilbo elbowed him in the ribs, grinning. His smile went unanswered. Thorin’s face was serious.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

Bilbo shrugged. “I always come with you.” 

Throwing his head back to expose the pale throat beneath his dark beard, Thorin laughed. Sun glinting off the truck’s flaking chrome made a halo of his long hair. He was the patron saint of bad jokes, without saying a word. 

“You have a dirty mind!” 

“Do I?” 

Bilbo grinned. “Not inaccurate, perhaps, but dirty. I was aiming for romantic.” 

Once again, a warm mouth met Bilbo’s own in a heart melting kiss. A strong hand tugged at Bilbo’s trousers, slipping into his pocket like a furtive teenager. Fortunately, he was not a teenager. Bilbo Baggins knew the difference between the bed of a truck and a proper bed. He redirected Thorin’s hand to a more appropriate spot on his waist. Thorin broke the kiss with a little laugh.

When they parted, however, Thorin didn’t go far. Instead, he pressed their foreheads together. 

“You do not miss the mark.” 

“Shall we get a move on?” Bilbo suggested breathlessly. “If we want to reach this lake of yours by nightfall, we really ought to keep driving.” 

“Yes, lets.” When Thorin rose the truck’s rusty suspension creaked. Bilbo’s feet lifted from where they brushed against the asphalt of the parking lot. Thorin ostentatiously tossed the keys in the air, catching them with one hand. His foray into Bilbo’s pockets had not been entirely prurient. “This counts as a stop. My turn to drive.” 

“We really should talk about your control issues.” 

“Says the man who won’t let me order my own ice cream.” 

“You liked the dirt cake!” 

“I like everything you do,” Thorin said, “except the way you drive.”

Spluttering incoherently, Bilbo grumbled about ingratitude, being unappreciated, and the general failing of courtesy in the modern world. All of this quickly devolved to cursing the hatch of the truck bed. He could not kick it while it was down, so he simply had to struggle and strain to lever it back up. 

Thorin opened the driver-side door. “Will you come with me?” his voice pitched low, and his eyes were hooded from the bright sunlight. 

Bilbo’s mouth went dry as his mind raced ahead to cool lake breezes and comfortable cabins. 

Sniffing, he lifted his chin high and strode purposefully over to the passenger side. “After everything I put up with from you, Thorin Oakenshield, I had better.”


End file.
